Conor held tightly onto his mother. And by doing so, he could finally let her go.

The ability to make fire at will. It allowed us light to see in the darkness, warmth against the cold, a tool to cook our food.’ He gestured vaguely in the direction of the Delta’s engines. ‘Fire is what eventually led to travel across the black beyond, the ability to start a new life on a New World.

Maybe probably ain’t all that comforting a word when it’s maybe yer not dying.

Life ain't fair. It ain't. Not never.

Nobody has to tell nobody nothing,” I say, taking another step forward. “You never were a poet, were you, Todd?” he says.

And changing for the better doesn't mean that he's ever going to reach good.

That's another thing about Noise. Everything that's ever happened to you just keeps right on talking, for ever and ever.